


Natterings with the Doctor

by just_ann_now



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My (very small) collection of Dr Who drabbles and ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fantastic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azalais (Azalaisdep)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalaisdep/gifts).



**Fantastic**

Rose was staring at him. 

The look on her face was like nothing he'd seen before, well, not in several hundred years, not since Cellini had finally convinced him to model for [that statue](http://craigharbison.com/images/large/07_perseus.jpg), and he'd gotten all his kit off. The look was mixed awe and reverence. He liked that look, but he wasn't sure _why_ Rose was giving him that look right now. 

"You're different," she whispered. "Your nose is not so, well, beaky. Your voice - you don't sound like you're from the North any more. And your hair - " she breathed. "Your hair is _fantastic_."

 

Inspired by this dialog from the episode "Turn Left":

Donna: That Doctor.  
Rose: You knew him.  
Donna: Did I? When?  
Rose: I think you dream about him sometimes. There's a man in a suit. Tall, thin man. Great hair.  
Some... really great hair.


	2. Breakfast, Day One

**Breakfast, Day One**

Rose stared hard at him. "You've got to do something about that," she said.

"About what?" he asked. "Could you pass the marmalade?"

"Your hair. It's all stand-uppy. Could you wet it down, or brush it, or something? And what did you do to get your toast so perfect? I just had plain bread and butter, though the bread's very good."

"What's wrong with my hair? It's like this every morning. I like this hair. It's fluffy. D'you see that box on the countertop? You put the bread in, and say, "Toast, golden brown, moderately crisp." When it dings, it's done. "

"It's bed hair. It looks like you just got out of bed."

"Well, I _did_ just get out of bed, so what's the problem?"

"It looks like..." She stretched out her hand as if to touch it, but instead pulled her hand slowly back. They sat stock-still, gazing into each other's eyes.

"Right," he said, after letting out a long breath. "I'd better go do something with it."

"Good," she said, after letting out a long breath. "Does the teapot work the same way? I'm up for some Assam, extra strong. "


	3. Crepescular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a "Twilight" challenge at the LJ community tolkien_weekly.

**Crepuscular**

_Crepuscular_ light. He loves the sound of the word, though when he muses upon it aloud, his companion snorts and grumbles, saying the word lacks music, sounds like the noise made by crumpling wads of newsprint. _Harumph,_ the Doctor thinks,momentarily distracted by the sound of that word, harumph. 

Words, words, words. The word “twilight” does have its charms. Twi-light, twain light, _L’heure bleu_ , the gloaming, the time when the veil between day and night shimmers, whisper-thin, finer than spider-silk. Lovely. 

Even more than the sound of the word, twilight, he loves the sounds of the sounds of twilight: the first tentative chittering of the morning birds, followed by full-throated, joyous song. The sleepy rustlings of roosting time,and then the leaf-muffled _too-wit, too-woo_ of the owl at the hunt: all those sounds refresh his spirit. 

How he loves this beauteous Earth, and all its inhabitants! Not for the first time, he blesses his Tardis for bringing him here. _Dear old girl_ , he thinks. _She does always know what I need_.


End file.
